Water
by sleeping-weeping-willow
Summary: Miczariel (Taylor Momsen) is a demon, obviously. She's on a mission in Derry, a mission to find the demonic shapeshifter simply known as 'It'. With a human host and a demon's wit and a solid lead, Mic planned she'd do just fine... that is, until she met Beverly Marsh.
1. Chapter 1

_What's all this talk of a notion?_

 _I'd rather drown in the ocean..._

 _What did you mean when you said no?_

 _I only want what is best for you.._

 _I won't ever let you drown._

* * *

Derry, Maine, was a particularly interesting town. Miczariel was aware of that much for sure. She'd heard many tales, but now she had actually been sent to the town herself- on official _business_ , one might add. Mic loved business. She loved the thrill of the kill, the ability to roam freely when she was on mission... well, as freely as a human host would allow her to roam. Mic hated taking living hosts, so she didn't take the living ones. No, Miczariel wasn't a demon who particularly liked to invoke suffering- she had suffered enough herself. Instead, Mic would always approach a potential host who was comatose or dying. Usually, after she was done with a comatose host they woke up, but this particular host- a young female in her teenage years, with bright blue eyes (though with Mic's influence they would later speckle with gold) and little freckles over her nose- would not be waking up soon at all. Mic had found the host two towns over from Derry, already nearly dead. The said host had been nearly beaten to death by her father, and did not want to go on. Mic had offered the young lady a wonderful afterlife (after all, the Big Guy in the clouds would accept the host's soul), in exchange for Mic's free use of her body. So here Mic was, holding her vessel alive- perhaps now attached to it as well, given the host's soul had passed on-, headed to Derry by foot.

She ran her tongue over her new human teeth, still not used to the fact that she was alive once more. She had passed on many years ago, but now she was given the chance to experience humanity again- as she was with each mission. The feeling of actually being able to feel was simply pure ecstasy for Mic, she loved every ounce of it. Well, she didn't much care for pain though. Pain was not good, pain hurt more than anything.

 _Well duh, of course it does. It's pain,_ Mic chided herself, her lips quirking upward slightly. She even almost giggled. What a silly thought, for a demon to become absolutely, irrevocably _human._ "Human, human, human," Mic giggled softly to herself, teeth bared in a silly grin. A green sign began to appear in the distance, informing Mic there were only twelve miles left of her trek. She glanced up at the sky, watching silently as the sun began to set. "Silly _human_ ," She giggled to herself, "you'll never make it at this rate." She promptly posted herself at the edge of the highway she'd been walking alongside and stuck her thumb in the air.

It didn't take long for a semi to approach. The driver, a smelly human male, rolled down his window impatiently. A cigarette was clenched between his teeth, Mic noted, as he looked her up and down. Mic always found it disgusting, the behavior of the older male humans. They seemed to feel so entitled to a human female's body, which Mic hated. "Climb in, sugah." The driver grunted, the cigarette bobbing up and down. Mic smiled sweetly, flashing pearly white teeth, and went around to climb into the passenger side door.

"Derry, please," She said in her sweetest voice, batting her eyelashes.

* * *

"Thank you." Mic smiled when the driver stopped at a gas station in Derry, parking far enough away that he'd get a good long look at Mic while she wandered away. "Really, I don't know how I could ever repay you." She went to open the door, but felt a calloused hand on her shoulder.

"I ain't doin' no deeds for free." The driver grunted, his bushy eyebrows furrowing. "Yuh gon' gimme a good time 'ar wha'?" Mic bore her teeth angrily to herself, but settled her inner fire and turned to force herself to look into a grimy, ugly face which had too many missing teeth and smelled of cigarettes and vomit.

She smiled sweetly once more, batting the man's hand from her shoulder as though it were nothing. "I don't sell myself, mister." Mic informed him. "I definitely did not hop in to give you a good time." Almost as soon as the female had defied the human male (Mic had expected it, she had grown to expect it), a thick-skinned open palm slapped her across her face. Thankfully, Mic was not hurt. She couldn't be hurt, really, she was a demon. She felt the bones in the hand shatter, a wicked smile parting her lips as the demonic part of her began to crack through the human facade. Rows and rows of teeth began to fill her mouth as her eyes shimmered to their natural golden color. "Why, whatever was that for?" Her now distorted, heavy voice asked. She lunged forward, leaving splatters of blood on the windows and the dying screams of a human male in her wake.

Blood still coated Mic as she climbed out of the semi, humming softly to herself as the teeth disappeared and the eyes became blue once more. Her blonde locks were now tangled and matted with blood, which she would fix in the gas station bathroom. No humans inside the station paid her any mind as she walked inside, partly because Mic was influencing them not to. She couldn't have anyone staring at her while she was hunting, that was a no-go. She walked by isles of cheap foods and found the bathroom, letting herself in and locking it behind her. She hummed as she turned on the lights, fishing around in the bag she had brought with her. She stripped the grimy hospital gown (honestly, how had the semi driver not noticed the stupid thing? Or was that why he had picked Mic up?) off of her thin frame. "This is a little too thin for my taste." Mic muttered, but who was she to tell someone (even if they were dead) to have a body? She traced her fingers over the thin middle of her abdomen, allowing the muscles to redevelop themselves. She was a huntress, and she preferred to look as strong as one. She ran her pale fingers through the grimy hair, frowning in contemplation as she snatched the pair of scissors from her bag. She snipped the long, long hair choppily down to shoulder length- the perfect length, in Mic's mind- and pulled it back into a spiky ponytail. She pulled the dark leather jacket from the bag as well, along with a plain white t-shirt and a torn pair of jeans. She'd found them in a dumpster, but that didn't matter. She'd managed to get the trashy smell out of them, so they'd be fine to wear. Her bare feet longed for a pair of shoes, which luckily she had found, so she slipped on the tattered white- well, once white- socks onto her dirty feet and pulled the battered sneakers on too after pulling on her other clothes.

"There." Mic beamed to herself. "A typical teenager."


	2. Chapter 2

_I am my enemy_

 _the water's up to the knee_

 _I never wanted nothing from you_

* * *

Finding a safe sleeping spot had been difficult. Mic didn't even think she'd ever slept since she'd died, but with a vessel which was so close to death Mic had decided she needed to let it recuperate. So, she had slept in a back alley on a dirty mattress which smelled of human misery and regrets. Across the street from her was a school, she could hear the children grumbling in the morning- which had woke her up- since it was their last day before they received, what Mic guessed, was a break from whatever it was school was. Mic had never gone to school, she had grown up in an era where if a woman was well-educated, they were a witch. Hells, Mic wasn't even literate. She yawned and sat up, teasing her hair with a slight smirk as she stood up, pulling the leather jacket tighter around herself. Perhaps investigating the school would be fun, right? Mic had never seen so many human offspring in one place, even though she'd grown up in a time period where a woman was expected to bear a large amount of children (Mic had never had kids, she had never married- she would not let a man push her around, perhaps that was why she had been murdered) in one place. Younger ones screamed, older ones didn't appear to wish to be at the school. Mic didn't know whether she should sympathize with them or not, but she continued to look around. The schoolyard was large and grassy and green, and the building itself was tall and smelled of human emotions- too many emotions to pinpoint, really- as the humans scuttled to and fro. Mic blinked and watched them as she leaned against a wire fence, perplexed. She wondered, should she go inside? Perhaps she could find what she was looking for in there, though she doubted it. Still, it would be nice to look anyway. She shoved herself away from the fence, her curiosity growing- as well as a devilish grin- as she trotted up the stairs. She blinked in mild disarray as the stench of humans hit her nose. The smell was awful, as though the stupid beings never showered, and Mic _hated_ it. Or, well, at least the male smell. Some of the females smelled quite enjoyable. Children hurried to class as a loud, shrieking bell rang- but Mic continued to wander the halls.

"What an odd place," Mic muttered to herself as she glanced around with wide eyes. She stopped when she saw a door with an odd symbol on the door, like a little stick figure with a triangle for a body. Instantly captivated and curious, Mic pushed open the door and entered. Three girls were in the room, giggling, and they paid no mind to Mic- although this time Mic wasn't trying to remain invisible. She tilted her head, blinking, as one girl grabbed a trash bin and proceeded to drag it into a stall. Another female- Mic could smell the meanness in her- taunted a hidden person, who was presumably hidden behind a thin metal door. The contents of said trash bin were then promptly dumped onto the hidden one with a splat. "Hey!" Mic protested involuntarily, gaining the three bullys' attention. Their eyes snapped onto Mic, whose eyebrows were creased into an expression of confusion and anger.

"Stay out of it, Rat." The ringleader snapped.

"The fuck did you just call me?" Mic spat, now infuriated her own status had been challenged. She tensed up, stepping closer to the ringleader, her eyes wide in a craze.

"Step off," The ringleader spat, her nose inches from Mic's.

Mic shoved the ringleader, sending her flying back. "Jesus Chris- you're like a balloon animal!" Mic said, having forgotten her own strength. She rolled her eyes as the girls scurried out, shooting venomous glares at the she-demon as they did so. Mic blinked and walked to the steel door, gently rapping her knuckles against its cool surface. "Hello?" Mic frowned, keeping her urge to retch at the garbage smell down, "Are you alright?"

"Go away." An unmistakably female voice muttered.

"You're okay now." Mic pressed. "Come on out."

"Why? So you can dump garbage on me?"

"No." Mic said, blinking. "I am here to help."

"Hah, that's a laugh." The female laughed dryly. "Why do you want to help me? Haven't you heard? I'm _tainted."_

"Well.." Mic knew what the female meant, but she didn't delve into the subject. "I'm a stranger, I don't know much about you.. or anything around here." Not a complete lie, but it was just enough.

"So then you haven't heard, huh?" The girl asked, suspicious.

"No, I haven't heard." Mic said softly. Whatever this girl was going through, Mic- in some odd way- could relate. "What's your name?" Mic asked, her curiosity naturally peaking.

"You really wanna know my name?" The female laughed. "Why?"

"Why not?" Mic challenged, eyes narrowing in a curious suspicion. "Look, my name's Mic."

After a long while of contemplation, the female sighed and seemed to cave in. "My name's Beverly. You can call me Bev."

"Bev.." Mic smiled. "I like it. Beverly means 'beaver stream'. So, you gonna come out or what?" There was a soft groan of annoyance, and the smell of a burning cigarette being put out with a soft hiss, but someone had stood up. The tin door creaked open, a pale hand gently looping around the ajar door as it was pushed open. Mic watched as a young woman, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, with porcelain skin dotted with light freckles and fiery red hair slowly pushed herself out of the stall. An odd scent, the scent of pain and untold miseries, lingered on the girl's soft skin- along with the sweet, uplifting scent of undeniable hope.

"'Beaver stream'?" Beverly muttered, quirking an eyebrow. Mic offered a lopsided, wolfish grin and a shrug.

"I didn't make it up, I promise." Mic told her. "C'mon, lemme help you get cleaned up. Kids are such assholes, y'know?"

"I know." Beverly said, her voice still a soft mutter as she reluctantly allowed Mic to pick bits and pieces of trash from her hair and clothes. "They're not the only ones, though."

"I know." Mic said simply. "Might I ask, why're you hiding in the bathroom?"

"Why?" Beverly asked. It was clear she didn't truly wish to speak on the subject.

"I'm just curious." Mic said hastily. "I won't judge you."

Beverly was silent for a long while, her face scrunched into a mix between discomfort and debate. "Promise you won't judge?"

"Promise." Mic said with a soft nod.

"There.. there's this guy here, Henry. He.. he spread this rumor that we.. we.."

"Screwed?" Mic speculated. Beverly nodded, and Mic felt an odd sympathy for the girl. Of course, deep down Mic could relate due to her own past, but she didn't speak. Instead, she patted Beverly's back and draped an arm over the thin shoulders. "Hey, don't worry. I'll stop any kids from picking on you." Mic said with a sincere smile. "You seem pretty cool."

Beverly seemed unfazed. "If you knew me, you wouldn't think that." She removed Mic's arm from her shoulders gently, without rancor, and simply walked away. Left to her lonesome, Mic simply watched the bathroom door continue to softly swing to and fro.


End file.
